


Life Itself

by savagemockingbird



Series: Downpour [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: M/M, can be viewed as either romantic or platonic tbh, idk how to tag this they just hang in the rain a bit together, post octo-expansion arc, prince is mentioned - Freeform, rider has implied trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagemockingbird/pseuds/savagemockingbird
Summary: The burning stops. When he looks up, he’s paralyzed at the sight of yellow tentacles and gold eyes staring intently at him. There is curiosity on the brim of them, questions that don’t seem to want to be asked.“What are you doing?” Rider asks first.Emperor, Rider, a shared umbrella and unspoken words.
Relationships: Emperor/Rider (Splatoon)
Series: Downpour [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006482
Kudos: 20





	Life Itself

**Author's Note:**

> im hyperfixating on coroika again pls take this as an offering i love emprider so much

It is 2 A.M. and raining when Rider stops walking. 

The metro is long gone by now-not that he had taken it-and silence consumes the entire area. The city lights are dim and he really has no idea where the hell he is. All Rider knows is that it’s raining and his jacket is hiked up over his head so the droplets avoid his face, but the water seeps into his arms and stings, reminding him that he is here.

Rider is alive. He breathes, in, out and then exhales noisily, air rattling out of his lungs. It hurts to breathe and hurts to move, but anything compares to the seeping feeling of stale ink that once pumped through his veins. 

He blinks, once twice, and he still can’t see colours. It bothers him. Rider is a professional, an S+ ranker and it had been stripped from him in so little time. All because he rushed in to help someone, because he had let concern get in his way, because almost  _ human  _ instincts had been brought up. He curls his lips back into a silent snarl. 

Being compassionate is to be weak. Rider should have known better.

He thinks, and he thinks, and the rain keeps pouring, keeps burning his skin. He reaches up, touches his eye. The skin is weird, discoloured almost from the ink blotch that had been planted there. He hates it. He wishes he could claw it out and claw his way through this stupid fucking body that had been rendered too weak to carry his dynamo around anymore.

The burning stops. When he looks up, he’s paralyzed at the sight of yellow tentacles and gold eyes staring intently at him. There is curiosity on the brim of them, questions that don’t seem to want to be asked.

“What are you doing?” Rider asks first. He looks up at the umbrella shielding him, folding his jacket back up into his arms and then looks at Emperor who blinks owlishly.

“I live around here,” he says, as if it’s a well-known fact. Emperor is popular and rich and Rider would care more if he didn’t think the guy was such a snob. “I should be asking you that.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Rider says dryly. He’s absolutely exhausted and the rain isn’t helping. “Even if you live around here, why are you out?”

Emperor shrugs. “Same reason. What, I can’t get out either?”

“Never pegged you as the kind of guy to have issues,” Rider says bluntly. He had never cared for being polite, anyways. “What, your cushy home isn’t good enough?”

Emperor’s lips curl down and his fangs poke out when he bites his lips. He stares at his sneakers, kicking the gravel of the sidewalk. “King’s have problems too, I guess. I never sleep at night, really.”

It feels almost too intimate to be standing next to the king of turf and talking about his insomnia. Rider shivers violently and Emperor shifts the umbrella from hand to hand to shrug off his own coat and hands it out to the other inkling. Rider stares at it momentarily before looking back at Emperor. “Hell are you doing?”

Emperor smirks at him, and yet there is no ill intent behind it. “Being a gentleman. I can’t let you go home in such conditions, so why not stay with us for the night?”

“Us?” Rider echoes.

Emperor nods. “There’s plenty of room. Prince and I live alone together.”

Rider considers it. He knows it’s a bad idea, and making friends will probably land him back on his ass. His fingers are shaking. Emperor will think of him as a burden, use this as leverage against him and pin him at his weakest. They are rivals; it is simply what the other would do to up his ranks.

And yet when he looks into golden eyes, there is nothing to decipher. The man’s grin has shifted into a genuine smile and he is holding the umbrella tightly within one hand, his coat outstretched towards Rider with the other.

He hears them. Rider can still hear the whirring of machinery and the screams of those past and he shivers harder. It’s cold, so cold and he feels so utterly alone. The metro car squeaks loudly in his brain and he flinches, eyes snapping shut. One of them feels too squishy to open, as if he had slept too long and hadn’t bothered to clean it when he woke up.

So he reaches out and grabs the coat carefully. “Why,” he breathes, “why are you doing this?”

Emperor takes a step behind him so they’re walking at the same pace, umbrella still held over Rider’s head. “I don’t like facing people who are weaker than me. If you’re sick then there’s no point, is there?”

There is something much deeper within those eyes. Rider can tell. Raw emotion hidden behind years of carefully crafting a personality fit for a king, masking true features and hopes and dreams. Emperor’s own aspirations are tightly locked away, never to see the light of day because of a path that higher-ups wanted him to see.

Rider does not pry. He gives a wobbly smile and a dry chuckle as Emperor leads him into his home, chucking boots off and discarding soaked clothing. Emperor disappears momentarily to hand him something more comfortable, then tells him where the showers are and where the spare guest room is. Prince is tucked away, already sleeping soundly so Rider is careful with his footing as he pads around the place.

When Emperor peers into the guest room, Rider is nestled tightly under pure white sheets, sleeping soundly and looking oddly peaceful. Emperor almost wants to admit it’s a nice sight.

Emperor and Prince are gone by the time Rider wakes up and soon enough he’s picking up his dry clothing and booking it back to his own apartment because  _ fuck he forgot morning practice. _ And when he sees him again, Emperor does is give him a knowing smile and kingly speech.

The rain pours again the next evening. Rider knows Emperor will know just where to find him, over and over again. He does. There are no words spoken between them, the only sound being the pitter-patter of rain against the streets.

_ Maybe,  _ Rider thinks.  _ Just maybe it isn’t so bad being around others after all. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading !! im @tomurajoyfriend on twitter if you ever wanna swing by and say hi !!


End file.
